Coming Home.

This morning it feels like fall. It’s barely 50 degrees, the scent from the bonfire came in on the wind last night, and I have my coffee. This morning I’m nostalgic.

Fall has this power over me, every single year, especially in the morning I get a little melancholy. I reminisce. This mood isn’t really a negative thing as a whole, I just.. remember.

Something about the smell of burning leaves and the cool crisp feel to the air first thing in the morning. It makes me want nothing more than to curl up in bed with someone I love, snuggle into my blankets and hover over my cup of coffee. I remember the past on these days, I smile at the memories, I wince at some. I relive them in my head and I miss the past.

This season, for some reason always has a calming effect on me, I think because my past was always so turbulent in the fall and early winter seasons. When the leaves start to fall my mind can’t help but remember, yet at the same time feel grateful that life has slowed down enough.

—

D came out last night, he’s been really distant from me (and everyone else) lately and I’ve missed him. Albeit he’s still a new friend, so to speak, but something about this guy lets me feel a bit more open, and the fact that he has the intelligence to hold a real conversation makes me appreciate him. So we talked for a bit, played catch up for 10 minutes and talked about the mess our brains were. We’re in two different situations, but I know there is understanding so I’m alright with talking.

The one thing that was brought up was how petty our childhood/teenage problems were, how how it’d be so nice to go back to the past. I had been saying that I get aggravated when people bitch about simple things (ie: not having anything to do on Friday night, or your hair just. not. looking right.) like it’s the end of the world. That just aggravates me, I usually keep my mouth shut because everyone deserves to vent, but I had been saying that lately I didn’t trust myself to keep my mouth shut, especially facing my current health problem. The girl who had aggravated me is a good deal younger than me, which brought us to the topic at hand.

Do you remember being younger? Those petty problems? Even in my later teenage years, during the “lets live in chicago shelters” era, life was so much more simple. It was work, fun, sleep. That was the fun of it. Before that? Life ended when you couldn’t find a ride to the mall. Or when your friend couldn’t come out after dinner.

My how times have changed.

Past is past, times have changes, and things are far from horrible. Things are just different. Sure, I’ve been to too many funerals in the past few years, my health isn’t perfect, but things are progressing, and I’m happy for the most part. I guess what I want or rather what I miss, is just the simplicity of life.

Sure I’m still that same girl whose mood peaks at the smallest moments in life. Like coffee on a cool fall morning. A flower handpicked and left in my mailbox (by someone NOT psychotic). My daughter reading with me. I just miss when life was almost entirely simplistic. Those moments were it. There was no new medical treatment lurking in the back of my head. There was no financial stress. There was no drama with Noodle’s dad. There was nothing but the simple things minus the few tragedies of my childhood.

—

More so now that Noodle is a part of my life, I focus on the small things that bring me happiness, that bring her joy. Like painting her nails, new oil for our oil burners and candles. Pretty fabrics and yarns. Playing in the yard. Simple things like a strawberry shake on a beautiful afternoon. Of course I love these things for myself, but part of it is trying to prolong her childhood and fill it with as many happy memories as possible.

Yes our life is hectic and hasn’t been the best so far, but I want her to remember picking out the orange leaves from the yard, not missing her dad. I want her to remember walking the forest preserve, not visiting me in the hospital. I want her to remember the blanket I am making her, not waiting for me to finish being sick.

Life is nothing but making memories, those memories that you sit back and let drift through your mind like a smooth fog are what life is.

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2 thoughts on “Coming Home.”

Amanda

I get annoyed with the people who complain about those things as well. Crohn’s definitely puts a lot of things in perspective! I’ve been extremely nostalgic/sad “ish” too lately. But my heart goes out to you for having to do it all with akid as well. I’m def not ready for that. It’s hard enough to take care of myself!